


Emotional Rescue

by frogfarm



Series: Xenos I Have Known and Loved [2]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/F, First Time, Geek Love, Massage, Meditation, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 01:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17193929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogfarm/pseuds/frogfarm
Summary: Hoshi's been growing closer through their meditation sessions. Between massage and all that geeky conversation, it's a wonder it took this long.Post-2x02, "Carbon Creek". Hoshi POV.Sequel toCold Fusion.





	Emotional Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> Written fall 2002 / winter 2018.
> 
> Hoshi is me. Perpetually unable to stop talking, thinking and analyzing, even while getting laid.  
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> * * *
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>> "You'd be surprised what a disciplined mind can accomplish."
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Hoshi nods and smiles at the passing crewman, who returns the gesture with a surprised grin. The extra spring in her step as she moves on is more than apparent, and she consciously slows her pace, taking deeper breaths. These meditation sessions she's been working on for the last few weeks are difficult enough as it is, and while she may have made some progress, there's no point in making things any harder. T'Pol is incredibly patient, even for one of her race -- _species_ , Hoshi reminds herself, as pedantic as ever -- but even a Vulcan has her limits. She'd tried not to be offended when her teacher revealed that their initial exercises were intended for Vulcan children, but it was still a bit of a sting.

She rounds the corner and comes to a halt, pressing the com by the door.

" _Ensign?_ " T'Pol doesn't wait for a response. " _You are early._ "

"I'm sorry." Hoshi checks the link on her wrist. "I can come back --"

" _That will not be necessary._ " A light rustling. " _One moment._ "

It's not even that when the door slides open. T'Pol is wearing her standard uniform, but her slightly open collar feels like the equivalent of a tie-dyed shirt. The light olive tint to her skin, the graceful slant to her eyebrows, the sweeping pointed ears and short-cropped hair make her the spitting image of billions of other Vulcans. Hoshi has no idea why she sometimes feels as though she could pick this woman out of a crowd, as easily as Porthos follows a scent.

"Please come in." T'Pol stands aside, indicating her work table. "I was just verifying the engineering crew's latest safety inspection."

"Does the crew know about this?" Hoshi smiles at the thought of an outraged Trip facing off against the captain in protest. 

"Redundancy in systems reduces the possibility of error." The door shuts, and T'Pol walks past her to gather up the various datasheets, sorting them into a neat stack. "I wanted to ask about your recent claustrophobic incident."

Hoshi has become accustomed to seemingly abrupt changes of subject matter. T'Pol never seems to be thinking wholly in one direction, or on a single topic. "You read my report log, right?"

"I was concerned that you might have been more severely affected than your report had indicated." Somehow, T'Pol manages to make this not sound like an insult. It's an incredibly tactful maneuver, one that Hoshi admires while wondering if she could ever pull it off. Her grandmother would have told her to take notes.

"Actually, no. Those exercises you taught me really helped." Hoshi coughs and covers her mouth. "At least until I got to the end and lost my shirt."

T'pol raises a slanted eyebrow, and Hoshi continues, somewhat hastily. "Anyway -- I'm more interested in this amazing story of yours."

"Story?" T'Pol's face remains serene and placid. Hoshi shakes her head.

"The one you told the captain, and Commander Tucker." She finds herself unable to suppress a grin at the recollection. "He hasn't been able to talk about anything else."

"Of the first contact between our species?"

"That's right."

T'pol does not sigh out loud. Nor does she shrug her shoulders, or so much as blink.

"They asked me to tell them a story."

Hoshi grins as she takes a seat on the woven mat, and T'pol, still tidying her desk, looks over with a frown. Compared to the Vulcan's open collar, her own faded sweatshirt, loose pants and ballet slippers are a far cry from the rigid protocol she'd observed when first arriving for lessons; her first one in full uniform, the second in a regulation training outfit. Even the bun in her hair is less tightly wound today, held in place with a single black and gold stick.

"I know that's what you told them. I don't blame you for driving them crazy." Hoshi's smile turns conspiratorial. "C'mon, just between us girls. Were you just yanking their chain?"

T'pol's right eyebrow descends a fraction of a millimeter, her left ascending in equal proportion. Hoshi could watch that little gesture all day and not get tired of it. Instead, she rolls her eyes.

"Don't get me started on metaphor. Standard English alone is enough of a rat's nest -- sorry. So tell me," she continues, leaning back and propping herself up on her hands. "I have to at least know about Mestral. Did he really stay on Earth?"

T'pol shuts her desk and looks at Hoshi, appraising the linguist for a moment. She turns and opens her closet, selecting a robe .

"He did." She offers a gracious nod as she opens the door to the bathroom. "Excuse me."

Hoshi shuts her eyes. It's a good opportunity to sit patiently and ignore the passage of time, but she has to be careful. One time T'Pol had emerged only to find her rocking back and forth, and the Vulcan had promptly demanded twenty pushups as compensation before allowing the lesson to continue. Whatever else might be said of her methods, there hasn't been a repeat incident.

The sound of the door opens her eyes as well, and T'pol sweeps into the room. Her robe is the color of cream in the desert; plain and without ornamentation, except for a slight evidence of patterned stitching along the very edges. She's literally breathtaking. Or at least Hoshi has her breath taken, for a moment.

T'pol sits down across from her, placing the unlit candle between them. She picks up her igniter and lights the candle, and Hoshi's face falls.

"That's it?" She tries not to sound too whiny. "I don't get any more details?"

T'pol regards her with her usual aplomb. "What would you like to know?"

"Well -- maybe I'm not the most adventurous person, but I can't imagine someone being that willing to just isolate themselves on an alien planet." Hoshi strives to recall the details, marveling at the scope of their influence if corroborated."No matter how fascinating they thought the locals were."

"Lieutenant Reed seems the type of individual who would thrive in such circumstances." T'Pol inclines her head as if conceding a point. "Whether he would voluntarily subject himself to it is debatable. But his record of survival training is more extensive than required, even for a man in his position. He frequently speaks of that training with great fondness, and expresses the desire to engage in similar activities."

Hoshi's jaw has dropped slightly by the end of the first sentence. By the end of the third, she finds herself shaking her head again.

"I don't think so. Malcolm's not really a people person, and survival missions are usually in isolation. From what Trip was saying, those three Vulcans were interacting with a town full of people for months." She smiles, her admiration evident. "You know, for someone who doesn't show any emotion, you're awfully attuned to it."

T'pol seems to shrug without moving.

"It is easier to observe one's surroundings in silence." She raises her eyes to Hoshi's, serene in her confidence. "When your thoughts are calm, you will see them more clearly. As well as everything else."

She holds out one hand.

"Shall we begin?"

  


* * *

  


_T'pol knows she is growing genuinely fond of humans, simultaneously welcoming and fearing the change. Hardly any of the reasons against it are rational ones, but the disapproval of the woman she was remains strong. In vain she reminds herself that same woman is still here, and always will be. And sometimes she feels the same call that Mestral heard: To abandon all responsibilities and go headlong out into the wide universe; to see all there is to be seen._

  


* * *

  


Hoshi opens her eyes. The candle is nearly a third shorter, issuing forth a wispy tendril of smoke from the wick T'Pol has just extinguished. It always serves as a subtle reminder of the fragile shell that surrounds them, the layers of skin that stand between life and death. Before the meditation, it gnawed at the corner of her mind, a spot rubbed virtually raw by her own fear. Now it reminds her more of the religious exemption clauses in the Starfleet regulation handbooks.

"You did well," T'Pol comments. From her, this is a standing ovation.

"Really?" Hoshi rotates her head, wincing at the crack in her neck. "I guess."

"You did." The simple observation is a bare statement of fact. T'Pol gathers her robes, preparing to rise.

"Wait --" Hoshi isn't sure what prompts her. For all her air of serenity, an unaccountable tension seems to surround the Vulcan woman, if not precisely in a mental sense. That thought alone is enough for what follows.

"Would you like a neckrub?"

Both of T'Pol's eyebrows rise, albeit the usual fraction of a millimeter. Hoshi feels compelled to offer some explanation, and it's precisely that compulsion that forces her to remain silent, to still her body's impulse to move as she awaits a response.

"I would."

The response for which she'd been hoping, if not expecting. T'Pol still wears a seeming aura of reluctance, but it takes only a few casual motions and minimal assistance for her robe to be coaxed from her shoulders, falling and puddling about her waist. Hoshi's about to call that good when the Vulcan shimmies the rest of the way free of the slinky fabric and stretches out on her stomach. Her upper body is still covered by the normal Starfleet tank top, a pair of briefs framing her exquisitely rounded rear.

"If you don't mind --" Hoshi discards her own pants and sweatshirt, quelling the tiny flutter deep in her stomach. Though T'Pol seems indifferent, she's not sure if she imagines the Vulcan giving her body a quick once-over.

"Have you done this before?" T'Pol inquires. Hoshi stifles a cough. 

"I did a minor in physical therapy." She curls up beside the other woman and leans across her back, fingers probing at the base of her neck. "My main focus has always been verbal, but it helps to have a good grounding in physiology." 

"A commendable attitude." T'Pol grunts on the final word. Hoshi briefly rests her hand on the Vulcan's shoulder.

"Sorry. It's been a while."

"There is surprisingly little difference between our species in this regard." T'Pol's voice is slightly muffled as she faces the floor, aligning her neck and spine. "From basic musculature, to nerve clusters and pressure points."

"I never thought about it, but you're right. Otherwise that pinch wouldn't work on humans." Hoshi shifts her body, trying to get a better angle. "Don't you think it's kind of weird? Two unrelated species, having so much in common?"

T'Pol's shoulder gives the barest shrug. "Apart from the natural limits of physical engineering and common sense -- it may simply be a case of divergent evolution."

"You mean literal common ancestors?" Hoshi's first instinct is to scoff.

"New data is always being discovered and evaluated." T'Pol seems to sense her skepticism. "It is the nature of scientific progress."

Hoshi switches sides, leaning in to exert more pressure. "You do realize that would be your people's equivalent of the Scopes Monkey Trial?"

"It is merely a theory." T'Pol sounds almost theoretically annoyed. "It is illogical to become upset about theories, or with facts. They simply are."

"That sounds pretty broad minded." Hoshi notes with grim satisfaction the other woman's head rolling slowly to and fro, her eyes fluttering shut. "Compared to what I see in the Vulcan press and popular culture."

"I admit that I would find it somewhat discomfiting." T'Pol sounds like she's discussing the weather. Also, that she's extremely relaxed about it. "But as you say -- no more than humans who were forced to accept the truth of their primate ancestry."

Hoshi's fingers cease their movement at the sudden stab of realization; almost a physical pain, to be reminded of the vastness of the gulf between them. It makes her wonder what T'Pol feels, if she's being massaged by a trained monkey. Frozen with indecision, she's on the verge of pulling away when T'Pol's hand is on her, squeezing with a firm and subtle pressure.

"Ensign -- do not mistake my feelings toward your species." T'Pol's eyes are still closed, her head turned to one side as she speaks. "You are no more irrational than a Vulcan in the grip of _pon farr_. Less so, I would argue."

Hoshi's laugh is as much one of surprise. She finds herself mildly offended, even as she acknowledges the clarity of the comparison.

"Tell me about your people." She straddles T'Pol's hips, enjoying the feel of those tight buttocks pressing between her legs. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Tell me what you know," T'Pol suggests, still sounding half-asleep. "I will correct any misconceptions you may be suffering from."

"Hm." Hoshi sits up straight and plants the heels of both hands in the small of T'Pol's back. "Well, there are some similarities with the Japanese culture of Earth. My ancestors. Obviously very broad, but -- one of my high school papers was actually a comparison of Japanese and Vulcan family structure."

"Fascinating." Drowsy as she sounds, T'Pol manages to avoid the appearance of sarcasm. "Go on."

"Divorce rates are both lower than Westerners, which is in line with what you'd expect from a more shame-based culture. And it's not like Vulcans necessarily emphasize sexual purity, but the cultural tradition of self-control as a virtue means that more Vulcans are virgins on their wedding night."

"True." An ocean of dry humor overflows from T'Pol's single syllable.

Hoshi coughs. "My teacher was a little irritated by that part. But he didn't make me read it out loud to the class."

"Humans have undergone many seismic shifts in culture. The latest one on Vulcan is still in progress." The Vulcan shifts beneath her, turning her head in the opposite direction before resting her cheek upon one arm. "Much akin to your twentieth century."

"That doesn't sound good." Despite her newfound calm, Hoshi definitely finds herself worrying. "You mean planetwide conflict?"

"More what your history books refer to as flower children."

Hoshi stops, blinks, and promptly breaks into laughter. It tapers to chuckles before she regains the self-possession to resume her massage.

"Your people suffered greatly from that movement's primitivism and nihilistic outlook." T'Pol's doing that verbal 'frown without frowning'. "Until their ideology was refuted in the following century, no Vulcan would have been surprised to see humanity destroy itself."

Hoshi smiles and shakes her head. "You sound like my grandparents complaining about rock music."

"A facile comparison." Again that dry note, like a joke Hoshi feels not quite on the verge of understanding. "But you are still young."

"Don't remind me how old you are," Hoshi chuckles. "Make me feel like jailbait."

"Jail...bait?"

"Um." The puzzlement and curiosity in the other woman's voice would be very amusing if Hoshi weren't abruptly being made aware of just how inappropriate things have become. Both of them in matching tank top and underwear, her in a superior position with her superior officer; rocking back, and forth, and so between her legs has been slowly growing very warm and wet.

T'Pol's nostrils flare as the Vulcan sighs and exhales, breathing deep.

"Do not stop."

Hoshi swallows, unable to move. Her surprise is complete when T'Pol speaks once more.

"Please."

"You do realize those arguments have been made before." Hoshi finds herself teasing, treading in unfamiliar waters. "To prove that people shouldn't...do what we're doing."

"I am familiar with that so-called logic." T'Pol does not move, or open her eyes. "If it would please you to touch me...then it would also please me."

Her heart pounds in her chest, rises in her throat. She's literally never done this before. Sure, a stray thought or two in college like most girls, but never acted upon. All of her fantasies have always been men, from burly to balletic and everything in between. But right now, with this luscious body laid out before her, all Hoshi wants to do is ravish this woman senseless.

"I --" She is not looking for an excuse. Not to have sex, and not to not have sex. "Weren't you and Commander Tucker..."

T'Pol shivers underneath, causing a sympathetic response of her own. 

"I believe that some part of me is attracted to the commander." T'Pol's grudging admission seems almost dragged from her. Hoshi forces herself to move on, over hill, over dale. _Down bicep down tricep, on Donder and Blitzen..._ "But I do not know --"

T'Pol swallows, and licks her lips.

"I do not know how much of that is him, and how much is merely the -- exotic alien nature of Homo Sapiens."

Hoshi snorts as T'Pol stubbornly continues.

"Or my own natural desire to procreate. But I have felt your desire for me --"

"You have? I mean --" Hoshi clears her throat, thinking back over the last few months. It's not much clearer even in hindsight. Apparently Vulcans aren't complete autists when it comes to human emotions.

"And I have wrestled with my conscience," T'Pol murmurs. She rolls over, gazing up with those strange eyes and now Hoshi thinks she can smell the subtle alien scent of arousal, drifting up from the furnace between those sculpted thighs. It's a weird paradox that Vulcan body temperature runs almost eight degrees cooler than a human's. As far as Hoshi's concerned, T'Pol has always felt very warm.

"There were many arguments against fraternization. From accusations of favoritism, to potentially far worse consequences." T'Pol's gaze softens as Hoshi, unable to resist, trails her fingers down the other woman's cheek, over her collarbone. "Emotions interfering with judgment can be fatal."

"Life is fatal." Hoshi's finger traces the swell of one breast, running lightly over the tightly stretched fabric. "I'd trust you to abandon me if it meant saving the ship."

"Do not joke of such things." And T'Pol's face is unchanged, but her eyes seem more liquid. Hoshi's heart catches in her throat again and she very nearly bends down for a kiss. And still the damn words just keep coming.

"Have you done this before?"

T'Pol blinks and gazes up at her. "I believe I require more context."

Hoshi has to laugh even as she's blushing. "I mean with another woman."

"I have had no previous sexual partners." The clinical nature of T'Pol's statement is at odds with the quiet, matter-of-fact presentation. Hoshi's eyes grow wide.

"Really? I mean -- not that I --"

She lets it go at that. Sooner or later, words always fail her.

"I am young. Engaged in intensive studies, and on duty on board an alien vessel." T'Pol takes her reaction in complete stride. "Not as young as you, of course."

Hoshi considers. "Is that a joke?"

T'Pol's frown holds only a hint of remonstration. "It is a fact."

"I..." Hoshi takes a deep breath. Below her, T'Pol watches, waiting for an answer.

"I have to say that that I feel...a greater sense of responsibility, I guess. Being someone's first." She tries not to blush; naturally, it's a complete and utter failure. "Not that -- I mean, I've only had...um, three partners myself. But I wouldn't want to --"

"Ensign." T'Pol's hand rises to clasp her own, intertwining their fingers, staring into her eyes. "Even for a member of Starfleet, you are too cautious."

Hoshi chuckles, unable to do aught but concede the point. "So I've been told."

"Clearly, there are no gross biological incompatibilities, as humans and Vulcans can mate and produce offspring." The softness of T'Pol's touch is at odds with the crude and direct nature of her words. It's a contrast Hoshi could learn to love.

"I have read the great erotic works of both our people," T'Pol murmurs.

And Hoshi allows herself to be pulled down, into her arms.

"It does not seem difficult."

**Author's Note:**

> > "In 2369 it was discovered that several species including the Romulans, and therefore also the Vulcans, could be traced back to DNA that had been seeded on many planets by ancient humanoids 4.5 billion years ago." -TNG: The Chase


End file.
